


Modern Romance

by worrisomeme



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Social Media, mentions of past Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, mentions of past infidelity, very minor panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrisomeme/pseuds/worrisomeme
Summary: Steve holds out his hand, grinning, while Bucky internally combusts for an entire second or five.“Oh!” Bucky exclaims, taking his hand and shaking. “Yeah! Yeah! Sorry, you don’t post a lot of pics of yourself. I love your stuff, oh my god.” This time he can’t fight the blush once he realizes he’d totally just fanboyed to the man of his dreams. Way to blow it under a minute Barnes.Steve muffles a giggle and smirks at him. “I love your… stuff too, if you know what I’m saying.” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and he flashes a wink while Sam groans and facepalms next to him.Bucky, on the other hand, turns another couple of shades redder as his eyes widen. “Oh, fuck,” he laughs nervous, “sorry if that came out- I didn’t mean it to sound like- Not that you’re not- I mean, you’re very-“ Breathing is getting difficult and he can hear Becca’s voice in his head, scolding him, ‘Stop, take a deep breath, and try again you fucking doofus.’ So he does. “I love your art. Your style is totally amazing and I’m ahugefan of your comic.”





	Modern Romance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RHCarter (Rad_Loser_Weenie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rad_Loser_Weenie/gifts).



Bucky’s slouched against his desk, editing his most recent video, when he gets a string of texts from Clint.

[ **Clint:** dude!]

[ **Clint:** u have to go check out this artist on insta!]

[ **Clint:** one of my girls just showed me his page and its amazing!]

[ **Clint:** his handle is CaptainAmerica]

[ **Clint:** u seriously HAVE to go look!]

[ **Clint:** now now now!]

[ **Clint:** have u looked yet?]

They all come in less than a minute and, while that makes his eye twitch a little, the messages pique his interest and, well, maybe he was looking for an excuse to take a break anyway. He fires off a quick text to Clint with the gist of ‘I’m going right now please shut the fuck up’ and then opens up Instagram.

He searches the handle and knows he’s got the right guy immediately. The art is _amazing_ and he falls in love with the style instantly. It’s just a bonus that there is a _lot_ of cute boys and cute boys being super gay and a pride flag in his profile. There’s also a good amount of posts on feminism and toxic masculinity and body positivity (not to mention the dogs and terrible (wonderful) jokes. There aren’t many pictures of him but when Bucky stumbles across one… Scratch that, he’s in love instantly. Period.

[ **Bucky:** I hate you.]

And he doesn’t have to imagine the way Clint is probably cackling on his couch because his phone rings and his friend’s stupid face pops up and before he can even greet the dumbass he hears that laughter.

“I hate you,” he repeats into the phone, then puts him on speaker to keep scrolling through the guy’s account.

The laughter only gets worse and in the background he can hear his wife ask him, “You gonna make it over there babe?” He imagines the way Bobbi’s face is probably scrunched up in confusion, arms across her chest.

When the laughter only continues and he gets no other response, Bucky mutters, “I’m in love with him and I hate you,” pouting and still scrolling.

The laughter gets quieter and Bucky can hear Clint say “Oooooh! He’s so mad!” but it’s in the background now and it’s followed by Bobbi asking, “What have you _done_ Clint Barton?”

There’s a rustling that can be heard, then Bobbi’s voice is on the line saying, “I’m not sure _what_ he did… but I’m sorry.”

 

*

 

Steve is sitting in a diner with Natasha and Sam when he gets the alert. His head tilts, brow furrowing in curiosity, and a surprised chuckle slips past his lips.

“ _What?”_ he asks aloud, still laughing.

“What?” Sam asks him, curious now.

“BuckyJumps started following you,” the blond recites. The notification is still up as he holds the phone out for his friends to see. “I mean, look at that follower count.” Once his friends get a look he pulls his hand back and starts scrolling through the account. “Curiouser and curiouser. I don’t get a lot of big famous _fitness_ accounts following me.”

“Oh I know him!” Nat chimes. “Kinda, anyway. That’s James Barnes, I see his stuff on browse all the time. He seems really cool.”

“Oh, he does that parkour shit, right?” Sam asks her. “On YouTube.”

“Mmmmhm,” the redhead nods around the straw of her drink. “And sometimes he vlogs and stuff, too. I haven’t really properly watches any of his videos, but I do keep meaning to.”

Steve lets out a thoughtful hum as he browses the guy’s page. It’s got tons of shirtless pictures (hot) and action shots (awesome), but he’s also posted some amazing-looking (probably) healthy food and- what? That is a lot of science and tech posts...

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs aloud, drawing snickers from his friends. Fit and sexy _and_ a huge nerd? This guy apparently checks every one of his damn boxes (and some he didn’t realize he had). If this was a cartoon he’d be full-on drooling (if it was an anime, he thinks, it’d be nosebleed city). “And, god, look at that _hair_. You guys know how I feel about men with long hair. How do I get me a piece of _that?”_

“Oh lord,” Sam says with a fond roll of his eyes. “Here we go.”

Natasha is giggling as she nudges her husband lightly. “Oh, let him have his fun,” she says with a grin. Then she winks at the blond and says, “You go get him babe.”

“Oh I’m going to,” Steve says with a cocky grin. “ _Followed.”_ He taps the button on the screen and looks up at his friend with a devilish grin. “You said he has a YouTube?”

 

*

 

When he gets the notification Bucky is skyping with Clint – the blond’s bandaid-covered face plastered across the screen that’s usually his work space. (At least he’d stopped laughing.)

“Well, ya know, if you’d stop letting your _students_ shoot arrows at your head,” Bucky scolds him half-heartedly, only paying partial attention to the conversation now.

“I can’t just expect them to trust _me_ with that kind of thing if I don’t trust _them_ with it,” he replies with a shrug. Instead of the ‘they’re not the experts!’ nagging he expects, Bucky’s only response is a (very) delayed thoughtful hum and Clint quirks a brow at him. “Aaaaaand I’ve lost ya,” he teases as his friend unlocks his phone screen.

Bucky feels his heart shoot up into his throat and his face falls as he properly reads the notification. “No fucking way,” he mutters under his breath, just as another notification pops up.

“What?” Clint asks, amused.

“No fucking way!” the brunet shouts this time, jumping out of his seat and pacing a little. He’s not quite sure if he’s excited, or he’s going to puke.

Both, he thinks. Both.

“ _Not only_ did that super cute artist follow me back,” he starts, glancing up to his computer screen and then hastily back at his phone, “he also subscribed to my YouTube channel!”

Clint’s grinning from ear to ear as he winks and says, “Well, I think it’s about time for you to move.”

Bucky blushes and laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh my god,” he groans, “you sound just like Becks. She’s gonna say the same exact thing. I betcha twenty bucks.”

 

*

 

“He lives in _Chicago_ ,” Sam reminds him with a look.

“So what?” Steve asks, not looking up from the piece he’s been working on through the whole movie. “He’s _from_ Brooklyn. And from the looks of it his sister lives here. Or they at least visit here together enough. It’s clearly a trip he’d be willing to make.”

“You’re really gonna try and pursue this guy?” his friend asks, chuckling.

“I’m at least gonna try and get to know him a little,” Steve says with a smirk. “Make friends, if nothing else.”

“I think you mean friends with benefits,” Nat teases him with a grin as she slips into the seat next to him. “Right?”

Steve snickers and says, “Well, I wouldn’t exactly _object_ ,” while Sam rolls his eyes at them.

 

*

 

“He’s been commenting on your stuff,” Clint notes with one of his notorious eyebrow waggles.

Bucky feels himself flush instantly and he can’t help but glance over from where he’s sorting through pictures from a recent photoshoot, trying to decide which pictures to post and in what order. He definitely prefers when this part is done for him.

“Have you been _stalking_ \- “ He stops short, his face screwed up in thought as he finally gives his friend his full attention. “Would that be stalking _me_ , or stalking _him_?” he asks, then shakes his head. He can’t believe he wasted ten seconds trying to figure that out. “Have you been _stalking_ us?” he corrects half-heartedly, his attention already drifting back to the pictures.

And, really, who thought it would be a good idea to let his insecure ass judge which of these pictures came out well or not?

“Don’t try and pretend you haven’t noticed,” Clint says with a devilish grin. “Cuz you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a liar.”

Bucky huffs and shoots his friend a _look_ as he leans back in his seat a little. His eyes dart momentarily to the screen with the pictures up, but he knows he won’t be able to focus now that this conversation has started, and he knows Clint won’t drop it until they’ve actually had a discussion about it.

“I’ve noticed,” Bucky concedes finally.

“And you’ve been commenting on his stuff,” Clint charges right on ahead, eyebrows wiggling in victory.

Bucky lets out a long sigh and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “His art is amazing and you know I firmly believe in leaving feedback for artists on social media.”

Clint purses his lips and furrows his brow in a faux-serious expression, nodding as he teasingly says, “Oh, yeah, right, of course. That’s all it is, of course.” His face lights up, pretending to suddenly remember something. “Oh, but, Buck?” Bucky knows he’s being set up. He knows it. But, still, he’s a good sport and lets out an inquisitive hum, urging his friend on. “That doesn’t explain the flirting.

Bucky feels that pink blooming on his cheeks again and if he rolls his eyes any harder he thinks they might _actually_ get stuck. “I don’t think you and I have been reading the same comments,” he says. “Flirting?” He scoffs. “Maybe in my dreams.”

Clint laughs and it’s his turn to roll his eyes, waving a dismissive (bandaged) hand. “Look, I’ll give you that you probably couldn’t flirt to save your life at this point-“

“Hey!”

Another dismissive wave of his hand, “- but you are _not_ too dumb to know when you’re being flirted at.”

Bucky’s cheeks go from pink to crimson in less than half a second. “Insult aside, just because he’s called me hot a couple times doesn’t mean I’m being flirted at- with,” he corrects himself with a soft, fondly exasperated chuckle. “It just means I’m eye candy, that’s all. And _that’s_ not exactly super new.”

Clint huffs out a deep sigh and rolls his eyes so hard all Bucky sees is white for at least a full second. “Okay, scratch that,” he says. “Maybe you _are_ too stupid to know when you’re being flirted with.”

 

*

 

Fate is a cruel mistress because a few days later he’s on Skype with Becca when he hears it. He’s catching up on his Instagram stories while his sister rants about one of the professors at her university. Steve’s story pops up: a video of his desk and computer screen covered in drawings and comic pages in various stages of completion. There’s writing on it that reads “I stg I am getting some work done”. There’s clearly a YouTube tab up on his browser, but it’s running in the background and it’s too small to tell for sure, but Bucky _swears_ he hears his own voice.

“Hold on!” Bucky half-shouts, waving a hand at his webcam as he interrupts his sister. “Shhh! One second!”

“Rude,” Becca mutters, letting out a little ‘tch’, but she does stop talking.

He watches it again and it is _definitely_ his own voice – one of his more recent videos. The next story starts playing, another shot of the desk, but this time you can see that he’s clearly been working, all of the comic pages and drawings are at least a little bit more completed than the previous story. The writing on it reads “Progress!” this time and, in the background, clear as day, there it is. It’s unmistakable. That’s the video Bucky made after the Orlando shooting. The one where he officially came out as gay to his subscribers and followers and ranted about LGBT+ issues (and maybe cried just a little bit).

And- Seriously? The stories are from hours apart! Has Steve been watching his videos all day? Now Bucky, let’s not jump to conclusions. But even if he hasn’t been watching his videos all day, he’s still gone out of his way at least two separate times now to watch them.

And as if it couldn’t get worse (better?), Bucky checks his page (why does he do this to himself?) and sees a whole slew of comments from Steve. The most recent is on his coming out video, going on and on about how brave he is and how lucky “we are” to “have a catch like you.” His cheeks flush instantly.

“What? What is it? Oooh! You’re blushing! What’s going on?!” Becca asks, having apparently had her fill of keeping quiet and being left out.

He feels his face turn probably about six shades darker (if the way he’s suddenly burning up is any indication) and he tries to keep his expression in check as he looks up to his sister on the computer screen. “He’s been watching my videos, apparently,” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Becca knows who he’s talking about instantly, of course (not hard to figure out, considering he feels like he hasn’t shut up about the guy for weeks) and flashes him a devilish grin.

“Well,” she says, “sounds like it’s about time for you to finally move back out here baby brother!”

Bucky groans and rolls his eyes half-fondly, drawing an evil laugh from his sister. “I knew you were gonna say that,” he grouses.

“Look, listen,” she goes on, interrupting any other whining he might have decided to do, “I’m sure YouTube _and_ Insta would both be super excited to have you out here by a headquarters. And, I mean, you could get out here as early as next week if you wanted! She throws her arms up. “It’s not like you’d have to find a new job, you work from home. And you know you always have a place with me until you can find your own so it’s not like you’d have to worry about apartment hunting.”

Bucky sighs heavily, running his hands through his hair. She _has_ been trying to get him to move back out to New York since before he even actually left for Chicago in the first place. For a long moment the only sound is Instagram cycling through his unwatched stories without him as he chews on his bottom lip and stares at his sister’s hopeful (and maybe vaguely threatening) face on his screen.

He _has_ been missing New York, he rationalizes. And almost all of his friends are there, his _only_ family…

Maybe it _is_ time to make the move back.

Becca’s face is lighting on more and more the longer his silence stretches on, but she doesn’t say anything, like she’ll spook him into saying no if she does. When he finally opens his mouth to speak, he doesn’t even get a word out before she’s bouncing in her seat, high-pitched giggles and excited squeals escaping from behind fingers she clasps over her mouth.

Bucky sighs again, almost regretting the decision already, and lets out a weak chuckle, then mumbles, “Yeah, okay. Okay. I’ll look into it.”

 

A week later he posts a picture on Instagram of his apartment, already half-packed up into boxes, with the caption, “Get ready NYC! I’m coming home!” He’s already started recording the whole process for a vlog at the end of the move. He knows his sister, and this is going to be comedy gold.

 

*

 

It takes a little bit of name-dropping and string-pulling, but Bucky manages to get an apartment secured for the first of the new month – the following Tuesday. That gives him just over a week. Ugh. He texts Becca at least once an hour bitching about packing, and she reminds him that packing will be nothing compared to all the unpacking he’ll have to do once he actually gets there. He’s not sure if she means it as some kind of pseudo-inspiration or comfort or something. If so, it doesn’t exactly hit its mark. Instead he just groans and heaves a sigh and gets back to work each time.

He starts to think maybe she just means to shut him up. And if that’s the case… well, it worked at least.

The drive is _almost_ worse, but at least it’s something he’s more used to.

 

[ **Bucky:** You got the keys, right?]

Bucky pulls up to the building and parks in front. He finally gets a response just as he’s turning his flashers on. Becca’s sent him a picture out his window of the city, sparkling beautifully in the morning sun. He just can’t help the huge grin that spreads across his face. Okay, yeah, he _really_ missed this city.

[ **Becca:** Nice view]

Well, if the picture wasn’t enough of an answer for him, there it is.

[ **Bucky:** I’ll be right up]

He quickly downs the rest of his coffee and sucks in a deep breath to quell the nerves that have been making his hands shake since the moment he started finalizing plans for this whole thing. He hops out of the rental and grabs his backpack along with as many other bags and boxes as he can reasonably (or maybe a little unreasonably) pile up in his arms. Hey, he can’t waste any time, he still has to make it to a furniture store today. And, ya know, why isn’t Becca down here helping him with a load anyway?

He’s eternally grateful for the elevator as he slouches against one wall, his arms starting to ache as he nears his floor. This isn’t even the bad part yet, he reminds himself. He’s still gonna hafta haul a bed – at the very least – into the building and, if he’s honest with himself, probably up all those stairs. Ugh. Then he’s gonna hafta unpack on top of it.

Fuck.

When he makes it to his floor he sees that his door is cracked slightly open and he can already hear the voices coming from inside. Well, he hadn’t exactly been expecting Clint and Bobbi over today, but he’s sure as hell not going to complain about seeing his best friend (or the extra help, for that matter).

He pushes open the door with a foot and almost drops the boxes in his arms at the sight. The living room and kitchen are both already fully furnished and he’d be willing to bet that the bedroom and what will serve as his office are too.

“What’s all this?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear and simultaneously glaring at his sister as he sets the boxes in his arms down. He knows this is her doing.

The second his arms are empty she rushes over and pulls him into a hug. “Well, I mean, I never gave you a graduation present,” she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky opens his mouth to argue and nag and scold, but she just cuts him off with, “Consider it a housewarming gift. Because I love you and I missed you and I’m the best big sister ever.” She flashes him a cheesy grin as she pulls back and he just laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Alright, out of the way,” Clint jokes, stepping forward himself and pulling Bucky into a bone-crushing hug. “Missed you,” he says and he presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek too.

“Should I worry about my marriage now that you’re back in town?” Bobbi teases him as she takes her turn wrapping her arms around him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Clint says with a smirk. “He’s only got eyes for someone else.”

 

*

 

“Are your dress clothes _really_ priority number one for you Buck?” Becca asks him with a quirked brow.

“Well, there’s an Instagram event coming up Friday that they asked me to show up to,” he says with a little shrug as he puts a shirt on a hanger and holds it out to her.

“Damn, already?” Becca deflates a little on his behalf. She takes the shirt from him and hangs it up in the closet. Clint and Bobbi are out returning the rental and picking up pizza and beer while Val sets up the modem and the cable box in the living room, everyone giving the siblings some alone time. “You just got here. They couldn’t even give you a week?”

Bucky shrugs again as they continue their little production line, trying to hurry and get all of his clothes away before his attention span decides it’s had enough. “I mean, I don’t mind,” he says with a soft chuckle and another shrug. Becca shoots him a look as he goes on, “I mean, they did help a _lot_ with getting this place on such short notice and stuff. It’s the least I can do, right?”

Becca’s brow furrows and she turns to face him completely. She takes him by the shoulders and looks into his eyes, her own laced with concern. “They didn’t pressure you into going, right?” she asks. “I know this whole move has to be stressful for you as it is, considering…. So we really don’t need them being pushy assholes, already making you do shit you’re not ready for yet.”

Bucky laughs softly and rolls his eyes, pulling himself from his sister’s grip to get back to work. “ _No,”_ he says, trying to assure her, “they didn’t pressure me into anything. They just asked very nicely if I would stop by if I could find time in my busy unpacking schedule. They even said please and everything. You might even call it groveling, if anything.”

Becca smiles at that, please by his answer at least, and gives a firm nod. “Okay, good,” she says. Then she gets that scary, dangerous grin on her face and asks, “So what are you going to wear?”

 

*

 

Bucky feels super awkward and self-conscious from the second he walks through the door. Becca had helped him pick out a dark blue button-up and dark jeans. His long hair is pulled up into a loose bun and he knows most people would say he looks great (and maybe some other, more colorful (and lewd) synonyms). Logically, he knows he fits the status quo of an attractive male his age. He’s not an idiot. He reads the comments on his pictures and videos. He knows this, logically. But that logic doesn’t exactly hold much stock in his mind. He just can’t shake that insecurity that has been festering in him since he was a chubby teenager with an accent and an obsession with space.

[ **Becca:** Tell your stupid brain to shut up and relax]

Damn, when did she get so good at reading his mind? He rolls his eyes and stretches his shoulders a little, trying to force himself to relax (and no, the irony of that sentence is _not_ wasted on him).

[ **Bucky:** look]

[ **Bucky:** my brain is the only part of me that is NOT stupid, okay?]

He sighs heavily and considers a drink. But then he thinks about how many of those it’ll take to actually get him into a comfortable headspace and decides against it. Once he gets going, he’s afraid he won’t stop. And him ending up drunk at this thing is probably _not_ a good idea.

[ **Becca:** There it goes again. Look at that stupid brain go.]

[ **Becca:** Being stupid.]

 Bucky stifles a laugh as he glares at his phone. Then, for good measure, takes a selfie of himself glaring directly at his camera (for the full affect) and sends it to his sister. She sends back a string of shrugging emojis.

He sighs heavily again as he locks his phone and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s at this thing to look pretty and mingle, he has no misconceptions there, so he might as well at least do that much. He spends a minute trying to psych himself up a little, gives himself a little pep talk: You’re not that little kid anymore. You’re hot, you’re smart, people genuinely enjoy your company James, you can do this. Then he sucks in a breath and heads out onto the floor.

 

Steve’s doing his best (maybe not his _best_ , but he’s putting in some kind of effort, so, hey, it counts) to not get drunk at this party like he normally would when Instagram hosts parties. Though, to be fair, artists are much bigger drinkers than athletes, so maybe that’s helping a little bit. But mostly he just wants to be of sound mind to hit on the one and only Bucky Barnes. Sam had heard some gossip that he’d be here and Steve had absolutely _begged_ to tag along. This was not an opportunity he was going to miss.

Now if he could just _find_ the guy.

“What’s your game plan?” Natasha asks, linking her arm through his.

Steve flashes a mischievous grin and casts her a sideways glance. “I’m going to charm the pants off of him,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching up a little. “Literally.”

Tasha busts out laughing and whacks his shoulder playfully. “I love you Stevie, you thirsty bitch,” she mutters between giggles.

“And I love _you_ ,” Steve chimes with a smug grin.

And Natasha’s barely regained her composure when Sam hurries over to them. “Come on,” he says, grabbing his friend’s hand and tugging.

“Where are we going?” Steve asks as he lets himself be pulled away from the redhead. He flashes her a confused, apologetic look over his shoulder and gives a shrug.

“I’m a great friend,” Sam says. Then, “I found your man.”

 

Bucky’s staring at a text from Clint that reads “Word on the street is that your Captain ;D got himself into that party you’re at” and he finds himself suddenly trying to decide if a drink would make him feel better or worse right now, when there’s a soft tap on his shoulder.

He (somehow) successfully manages to _not_ jump right out of his skin and forces a smile to his face as he whirls around. He instantly recognizes one half of the yoga power couple as Sam Romanov and he finds himself internally fanboying just a little bit. But his heart _really_ gets a workout when the gorgeous little blond at his side smiles at him. He thinks it’s…. I mean, he doesn’t post a lot of pictures of his face, but he _swears_ it looks just like… and Clint _was_ just saying he’d be here…

“Hey man, sorry if I’m interrupting,” Sam says.

“No, no,” Bucky brushes it off, locking his phone and stuffing it in his pocket as he holds out his hand to shake. “Just ignoring my sister,” he lies. Hey, when it comes to Steve, Clint sure as hell has been acting like Becca lately. He’ll count it.

“I hear they don’t like that,” Sam teases him with a grin, taking his hand in a firm shake. “Sam Romanov, nice to meet you. You’re Bucky, right? I was just recently introduced to your channel, _real_ cool shit dude. Welcome back to New York.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, successfully fighting a blush. “I’ve followed you and Nat for a while now. You guys are _amazing_ ,” he can’t help but gush. “Total relationship goals.”

“Awh shucks,” Sam chuckles with a little shrug, “it’s just what happens when you’re in love I guess.” The blond elbows him lightly and he rolls his eyes fondly, laughing again. “Sorry Stevie, didn’t mean to be rude. Buck, this is my good friend Steve Rogers. You might have seen his art, his handle is Captain America.” Cue another fond roll of his eyes.

Steve holds out his hand, grinning from ear to ear, while Bucky internally combusts for an entire second or five. So he was right then. He isn’t sure if he’s happy or terrified by that.

“Oh!” Bucky exclaims, taking his hand and shaking. “Yeah! Yeah! Sorry, you don’t post a lot of pics of yourself. I _love_ your stuff, oh my god.” This time he can’t fight the blush once he realizes he’d totally just fanboyed to the man of his dreams. Way to blow it under a minute Barnes.

Steve muffles a giggle and smirks at him. “I love your… _stuff_ too, if you know what I’m saying.” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and he flashes a wink while Sam groans and facepalms next to him.

Bucky, on the other hand, turns another couple of shades redder as his eyes widen. “Oh, fuck,” he laughs nervous, “sorry if that came out- I didn’t mean it to sound like- Not that you’re not- I mean, you’re _very_ -“ Breathing is getting difficult and he can hear Becca’s voice in his head, scolding him, ‘ _Stop, take a deep breath, and try again you fucking doofus.’_ So he does. “I love your art. Your style is totally amazing and I’m a _huge_ fan of your comic.” ‘ _Better,’_ Becca’s voice in his head says.

Steve’s full-on giggling into his hands now and even Sam looks thoroughly amused, meanwhile Bucky’s internal temperature has gone up about a million degrees and he knows he’s bright red from his scalp to the tips of his toes.

“Thank you,” the blond says, his smile sincere (though he’s still giggling), and he reaches a hand out, resting it on his arm lightly. “It really means a lot. And, for what it’s worth from a scrawny little artist who hasn’t worked out a day in his life, I _really do_ love your videos too. Maybe you can teach me some moves sometime.” And there’s than wink again.

“Oh, uh, yeah, for sure.” Bucky can’t formulate anything more intelligent to say (which he blames the puddle of mush in the base of his skull that _used_ to be his brain for) and suddenly he’s wishing he had gotten that drink, if nothing more than for an excuse to not be talking right now.

“Well, hey,” Sam cuts them off like some kind of Patron Saint of babbling gay boys, “we should get back to mingling. Ya know, not hold you up any longer.” He nudges the blond at that, who pouts at him just a little. “I’m sure my wife will be by at some point to say her hellos.”

‘Oh, okay, yeah,” Bucky replies ( _real genius with words,_ he scolds himself) and laughs nervously. But at least, as they shake one more time, he’s at least starting to feel his heartrate slow a little. “Thanks man. It was great to meet you. Both of you.”

“You too,” Sam says with a small nod of his head. Then he turns and starts dragging his friend away.

“See ya around Jamie,” the blond coos with a coy little wiggle of his fingers and another wink. Bucky feels his cheeks burn again and a goofy smile stretches across his face. “Don’t ignore your sister!” he teases of his shoulder and Bucky can’t help but laugh and shake his head.

“I won’t!” he calls after the pair, already pulling out his phone. Oh, Clint’s going to _love_ this.

 

“Privyet kotyenok,” the redhead greets him as she approaches him and hands him a drink. Bucky’s jaw just about falls off his head.

“ _You speak Russian?”_ he asks her in his first language, taking the offered glass. He’s too surprised (and impressed, frankly) to even be nervous.

“ _Of course,”_ she says it like a _‘was there ever any doubt?’_ with a smirk on her lips and takes a sip of her own drink. Then she offers a hand and switches back to English, “Natalia Romanov. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Bucky says with a soft laugh. “I try not to assume. Most people our age are second and third gen and the language is long gone by now,” he explains, smile shy.

“Well, I suppose that’s an assumption in and of itself, isn’t it?” she asks. And when Bucky opens his mouth to reply, eyes wide, stumped, and nothing comes out, she giggles. “I’m just giving you a hard time, kotyenok. Don’t worry so much dear. How’s New York welcoming you back?”

“Beautifully,” Bucky replies with a relieved sigh, grateful for the subject change. He shakes himself from his spiraling thoughts and chuckles quietly. “I thought Chicago would be enough city to keep me from missing this place, but I was just kidding myself.” He finds he’s surprised by how comfortable he feels with Natasha, especially with how intimidating she really does come off as. The fact that he feels any level of comfort at all tonight is, quite frankly, shocking in and of itself.

“What made you leave in the first place?” she asks him, a smile on her face that would come across demure to most. Bucky can see through it, can tell she’s digging.

Still, he shifts a little on his feet and takes a sip of his drink, stalling. “It’s, uh, a uh, it’s a _really_ long story,” he decides on finally. “And, I mean, I don’t _mind_ talking about it now, I guess,” he can feel his cheeks heating up as he realizes he’s rambling, but he just can’t stop himself, “it’s just that I haven’t talked about it much, especially not people that I don’t know as well- Not that I’m saying you’re not trustworthy – I was actually just thinking about how comfortable I feel with you already – it’s just… _here,_ and-“

“It’s okay,” Natasha says, cutting him off with a stifled laugh and a comforting hand lightly gripping his elbow. “But how about we work on changing that whole ‘people I don’t know as well’ thing, okay?”

Bucky takes a steadying breath and nods. He finds himself smiling as he meets piercing green eyes. “Yeah,” he says, starting to settle, “definitely.”

 

*

 

Okay, so, _maybe_ Bucky has notifications on for Steve’s Instagram. Maybe. And maybe he gets a little too excited whenever the artist posts something. Hypothetically. Maybe. And maybe – _hypothetically_ – Steve posts a page of sketches about a week after the party. Maybe it’s captioned “eye and lip study… just can’t get him out of my head ;)”. And maybe Bucky’s spent enough hours self-consciously staring in a mirror and (more recently, not to mention more justified) at pictures of himself to recognize his own eyes (never blue enough) and his stupid, ugly, dimpled chin, his stupid ugly crooked smile.

Okay, so maybe not hypothetically. That’s exactly what happens, and when Bucky sees the post he feels his cheeks start to burn and lets out this… _noise_ that’s something between over-the-moon excited and completely, utterly terrified. Maybe (also not hypothetically) he knows Becca has been following the artist just as… _enthusiastically_ ever since Bucky’s been talking about him. Shit. _That_ means it’s only a matter of time before she’s browsing and sees it and she is _never_ going to let this one go.

Fuck.

He’s proved right about an hour later when his sister’s face pops up to taunt him from his phone on his desk. He’d been _trying_ to ignore his racing thoughts and get planning done for future videos. Though, to be fair, he hadn’t exactly been able to focus. Still, he glares at the phone for a solid couple of seconds before answering it anyway.

He doesn’t even get a greeting in before his older sister is screaming in his ear, “Oh my god! That is _your_ stupid face he can’t get out of his head!”

“Gee thanks,” he replies, monotone, as he presses his phone between his shoulder and ear. If she’s going to make fun of him, he’s at least going to keep working while she does it.

And to Becca’s credit, he knows she doesn’t _really_ mean that his face is stupid. She’s the first to tell him how handsome or beautiful or whatever adjective she feels like that day she _“knows”_ he is and she’s the first to kick his ass if he starts to get down on himself.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to give her a hard time about it. Not by a long shot.

“Oh, _you know what I mean,”_ she huffs playfully in Russian, and he pictures the way she’s probably rolling her eyes.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Bucky hears hears her girlfriend – Velora – tease her in the background. They’ve been dating for just under a year now and Bucky’s only met her in person once or twice, but she has been there Skyping him with Becca regularly enough that they’re comfortable with each other.

“Yeah! See? I want Vel to be my big sister! You’re fired. She’s nice to me,” he teases her as he skims through his list of suggestions that he saved from other videos’ comments. Every once in a while he highlights one.

And, frankly, he’s just pretty pleased with himself that he got her off the original reason for her call.

“She’s _not_ that nice, actually,” Becca jokes, drawing a quiet ‘Hey!’ in the background from Vel.

Oh, she’s really taking the bait. Maybe he can get rolling on a tangent, he thinks, and asks, “How’s work been sis?”

“Don’t even get me _started_ on those bureaucratic bitches!” Becca, well, starts.

But then in the background he hears Vel chime in with, “Hey, didn’t you call to tease him about that artist kid?”

And Bucky lets out a little ‘tch’ and says, “You’re right, she’s not that nice.”

Which has Becca cackling, at least.

 

*

 

A couple days later Bucky _finally_ finishes editing his video of the move. Hey, he reasons with himself, it was a _lot_ of footage and he’s had a busy few weeks. The video ends with a pan around the living room – still scattered with some boxes here and there – and then it turns to his face with the beautiful view out the living room window behind him, as he laughs and says, “We’ll see how long it takes me to unpack the last box. Start making bets in the comments on how long you think it’ll take me,” and then winks at the camera.

It doesn’t take long at all for the comments to start popping up, and one of the first is from Steve:

“Welcome back to the best city in the world! If you ever need help reacquainting yourself with the good places to eat (or just someone to eat with ;P) lmk<3”

Bucky feels himself turn bright pink instantly and he lets out a little nervous giggle, biting his lip and running a hand through his hair. Oh god, his heart hasn’t threatened to beat out of his chest like this in ages. Should he respond? There’s no way he could be as bold as the blond has been, but he _could_ say something. What _would_ he say, even? Would a simple ‘thank you’ be enough? If he says he’ll let him know, but then he doesn’t message him, will Steve be offended? Will he be offended if he doesn’t reply to the comment at all? Oh god, why is flirting so hard? Oh god, is that what this _is_? Fuck. Why is he so out of practice?

Oh. Yeah….

“Thanks! Will do! :)” he types up in reply and hits send before he can second guess or stop himself.

 

“Yasha!” Nat calls out to him excitedly, jumping on him in a hug. He’s been talking more with the power-couple (and the redhead in particular) since their first meeting at the Instagram event and they’re really starting to get close.

(Enough to make Clint just playfully jealous. And also to make him tease that he’s just getting to know the couple to get into Steve’s pants. He knows it’s not true, but he (much like Becca) likes to watch him blush and stutter and get all worked up denying it and going on and on about how amazing they are and how lucky he is that they even talk to him.)

Bucky laughs and almost drops his phone as he catches her, hugging her back. “Hey!” he says as she lets him set her back on her feet. “You’re late!” he teases her. “I was _so_ bored.”

“Yeah we could tell by the way you had your face buried in your phone,” Sam teases him right back, laughing. “What had you looking so damn forlorn, anyway?”

Bucky flushes pink and tucks his phone in his pocket, taking Sam’s hand to shake (and then being pulled into a hug). “Oh, nothing major,” he says, trying to downplay it. “Just trying trying to figure out how to respond to a comment.”

Sam and Tasha both get a variation of the same exact grin on their faces and exchange knowing looks that only serve to turn Bucky’s cheeks even darker red.

“Someone being rude?” Natasha asks, a faux-innocent smile on her face and she batts her lashes. It’s another one of those instances where an innocent onlooker might fall for it, but Bucky knows she’s just digging. Those looks gave it away if nothing else. And, hey, she _is_ Steve’s friend, after all. But he figures he’ll take the bait anyway.

“No, nothing like that thankfully,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Just someone…” he laughs nervously and pulls a hand free to rub the back of his neck as they make their way to the counter, “this is gonna sound so stupid, but, it’s just someone flirting with me.”

Nat lets out a thoughtful hum and catches her husband’s eye, but she lets the conversation drop just long enough for them to get their coffees and find a table. The reprieve doesn’t last long, though. He knew it wouldn’t. How does he attract such ruthless friends?

“Is the attention unwanted?” Natasha asks him the second they sit down.

“Are they being disrespectful?” Sam adds before he can respond, concern in his eyes. “I mean, you looked _really_ stressed when we walked in.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Bucky assures them, flailing a little as his cheeks pink back up. “I just haven’t…. been flirted with in a long time, ya know? My last relationship was… _bad_ , so I haven’t actually tried to… I just never know how to respond, and he’s so _smooth,_ and he has no problems being so forward. It’s not a bad thing or anything, but it throws me off.” He laughs nervously and takes a sip of his coffee to shut himself up.

Natasha and Sam are gazing at each other with unreadable expressions, apparently having some sort of telepathic conversation. He catches a glimpse of joy, but also some concern, and a lot of curiosity, along with some things he can’t read. Finally, Nat looks over to him and smiles.

“I wouldn’t worry so much,” she says with a wink. “I bet he thinks you’re _adorable_.”

 

“I’m _mostly_ unpacked,” Bucky whines, carefully placing a row of knick-knacks (i.e. various anime and comic book toys and collectibles) on a shelf.

“Your kitchen in the only room completely unpacked,” Becca says, looking up from her phone with a quirked eyebrow, his mouth twisted up in a complete lack of amusement.

“That statement is based _purely_ on a technicality and you _know_ it,” he argues.

“Even some of your _clothes_ , are still unpacked you little _shit,_ ” and there she goes, switching into Russian. “ _Even some of your_ clothes _are still packed. Have you done_ anything _these past two weeks?”_

“I was _busy_ ,” Bucky continues to whine, slipping into their mother tongue himself. “ _I had that event, and then I had to edit the vlog –_ which was _so_ much footage, _jesus_.” He’s switching back and forth between languages now and he lets out a little huff. “This is the first free day I’ve had since I got here.”

“Should I be filming this for another vlog?” he hears Vel chime in the background, snickering.

“I’d wait until the physical fighting starts,” Bobbi replies with a smirk. “His viewers would probably _love_ to see his toned ass getting kicked by his big sister.”

“You make an _excellent_ point,” Vel agrees with a nod and a raise of her glass in cheers.

Becca just gives him a pointed look, ignoring the other women and their amusement at her little brother’s expense. Bucky stares at her for a minute, waiting for her to say _something_ , and when she doesn’t he throws his arms up. “They’re _winter_ clothes!” he tries to defend himself. “I won’t even need them for another couple of months.”

“It _is_ New York,” Clint says, eyebrows raised. “You never know. And you’ll probably _definitely_ need them sooner than you’re assuming.”

“Whose side are you _on_?” Bucky asks, his voice pitching up as he tries to stifle a laugh and chucks a toy dragonball at his friend’s head.

“The person who’s paying for the pizza!” Clint replies, laughing as he catches the toy and throws it back.

Becca grins and does a little victory dance, pointing at herself. “ _And that’s me_ ,” she chimes in Russian, as if Bucky didn’t know, just rubbing it in.

“Come on James,” Bobbi teases him with a smirk and a cocked brow, “you should have seen _that_ one coming. You really _have_ been gone too long.”

At some point Clint had managed to snatch Bucky’s phone from where it lay abandoned on a bookshelf. He’d posted a video to Instagram, himself and Vel flashing peace signs and laughing while the siblings wrestle in the background, Becca scolding him and in Russian the whole time. She’s…. _decidedly_ winning that fight. Clint had captioned it “He’s actually really trying, too XD #bigsisisalwaysright”.

To Bucky’s credit, Becca does _not_ fight fair.

Bucky hadn’t even realized any of this until later that night after everyone has left. He’s munching on the last piece of pizza and finally checking on his notifications from the day when he sees a slew of comments on the damn thing.

He groans and huffs out a fond by annoyed laugh, rolling his eyes as he watches it and scrolls through the comments. They’re all a variation of “should have known better” and “well, he can’t exactly beat up his sister” (exactly!) and “omg you guys are hilarious!”. He rolls his eyes again, amused, and tries to decide if the video has gotten too much good feedback to delete when he notices the all-too-familiar handle – CaptainAmerica.

The comment says, “I’d let you win,” with a cute little winking face. Bucky feels his cheeks heating up as he reads it.

 

The characters in Steve’s super gay, super cute comic book aren’t together yet, but that doesn’t stop the blond from posting all kinds of cute pictures of them cuddling and kissing and doing other generally adorable couple things together. The time, when he posts a picture of the two cuddling and being adorable, Bucky sucks in a deep breath and works up the nerve to leave the comment:

“So cute! ^_^ I always love when you post little pics of them like this! Hope I have this kind of love in my life one day!<3”

A few hours later he gets a reply from Steve:

“Thanks! I love these little dorks!<3 And, hey, you never know, your soulmate might be right around the corner! Or, you know, maybe down in Williamsburg ;P”

 

*

 

“I’m gonna lose it!” Steve grumbles, one hand tangling in his hair. The other has his phone pressed to his ear, Sam on the other end of the line. His alert tone goes off quietly, but he ignores it. Whatever, he’ll check it later. He’s having a crisis right now. It can wait. “I’ve gotta do _something_ Sam!”

Sam snorts on the other end of the line and Steve pictures perfectly the way he’s probably rolling his eyes. “So ask him out,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s not time for that yet,” Steve says so-matter-of-factly Sam barks out a laugh. On the page in front of him he’s already sketching the brunet yet again.

“Oh yeah?” Sam asks, still laughing. “And why’s that?”

“He’s not _ready_ yet,” Steve says, gesturing wildly as if his friend can see him or it would make his point either way.

But instead of agreeing with him, Sam just laughs harder. “ _What?!”_ he asks, equal parts incredulous, amused, and confused. “You’re aware of how horrible that sounds, right?” he asks, his laughter only settling slightly.

Steve’s alert tone goes off again and he lets out a thoughtful little hum as he pulls his phone away from his ear to check the damn insistent thing. He puts Sam on speaker, but he’s not really listening because, oooh, Jamie posted. He feels the dopey little smile work its way onto his face as he clicks the notification.

“Are you even listening to me anymore?” Sam asks, sounding more amused than anything else. Steve hasn’t really been interested in anyone this seriously in a while, so he’s probably humoring him more than he normally would.

“No,” Steve admits with a sheepish grin and a soft chuckle. “My man posted.” He opens his mouth to say something else snarky but instead he can’t help the loud gasp that escapes.

“ _What?”_ Sam asks, snickering.

“It’s _perfect!_ ” Steve practically shouts, jumping out of his seat and doing a little victory dance.

“What is?” Sam asks, then puts his hand over the mic and says something to Nat.

“You will never fucking guess,” the blond laughs, putting a hand on his hip in some pseudo-Wonder Woman pose.

Sam lets out a fondly exasperated sigh and, again, Steve can practically hear that roll of his eyes as he says, “You’re probably right, so why don’t you just tell me?”

“Guess who is holding a beginner’s parkour workshop next week!” Steve squeals a little, his face scrunching up in excitement.

“Oh no,” Sam says, laughing again. “I saw him when you were just talking to him like a normal human being- or as close as you ever get anyway. You’re going to _break_ the poor boy.”

And to that, Steve just cackles and grins from ear to ear as he says, “Isn’t it great?”

 

*

 

“Are you _sure_ about this?” Sam asks for the millionth time, an eyebrow raised and arms crossed over his chest, as Steve ties the laces on sneakers he’s only ever actually worn once (maybe twice?) before.

Steve tilts his head up and gives Sam a pointed look before shuffling himself around, still bent over. “Have you _seen_ my ass in these?” he asks, resuming the tying of his shoes. “I’m sure.”

“You know if you go you’re going to have to actually _do_ the work,” Sam reminds him, chuckling. “You don’t want to make an ass of yourself in front of him, do you?”

Steve pouts a little as he rights himself and turns to his friend. “I know,” he says, indignant.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Sam tries warning him, smirking. “You sure your delicate artist’s sensibilities can handle it?”

Steve gasps and lets out an offended huff as he playfully glares at his friend. “Look,” he says, hands on his hips, “if I don’t make it today it sure as hell isn’t going to be due to my ‘delicate artist’s sensibilities’.”

Natasha chooses just then to emerge from the hallway in nothing but a towel. She shoots them both a look, a mix between amused and scolding. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be late,” she says. “And that’ll make an even worse impression than any dumbass thing you could do during the class.”

 

Bucky’s running over his lesson one last time, discussing the plan with the camera crew (and oh my god an _actual_ camera crew! Thank you YouTube! Maybe coming back was an even better idea than he thought). There’s only a few minutes left before they get started and everyone who’s going to show up should be here by now. He notices one of the camera guys glancing over his shoulder and thanks them one last time before turning to greet whoever’s approaching.

His heart skips a beat and his cheeks turn pink for it the second his eyes land on the blond – clad in leggings that are perfectly, beautifully tight (he can only imagine how it shows off his ass) and a loose, deep v-neck that shows off a small tattoo on his left collarbone that Bucky instantly just wants to kiss. Endlessly.

“Hey stranger,” Steve Rogers say with an adorable little wave and a smile to die for.

“H-Hey,” Bucky stutters out, and hopes his smile doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “What brings a… what was it you called yourself – a scrawny little artist – out here?” he jokes, and his voice only slightly breaks just the once, so he counts it as a win.

Steve’s grin widens at the crack in his voice and he rocks on his feet a little, hands clasped behind his back now. “Well, I _also_ said you’d have to show me some moves sometime, didn’t I?” he teases. “So when I saw you were doing a beginner’s workshop- well, it’s not as… _one-on-one_ as I would have liked, “ he says it with a cute little wink that makes Bucky swallow hard, “but still, it seemed like the perfect opportunity, ya know?”

“I’ll have to give you a raincheck on the- the private lesson,” Bucky replies, _trying_ to be just as collected and sexy as the blond has been. But he stumbles over his words half way through the sentence and his cheeks pink up and it doesn’t quite make it there. Maybe it makes it to adorable, at least, because the blond is giggling.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Steve replies with another little wink, turning Bucky’s cheeks from pink to crimson. And when he turns to join the rest of the newbies in the class Bucky’s brain short-circuits as he can’t help but stare at the other man’s ass. He knows instantly that the blond chose those leggings on purpose – he is _clearly_ trying to murder him.

 

It takes everything Steve’s got in him to not look back and make sure the other man is watching as he saunters away. He hadn’t put on his favorite pair of leggings for Jamie to just _not_ stare at his ass the entire two hours, after all.

And, shit, Steve had known this wouldn’t exactly be easy, but damn does Bucky just drive right the fuck in. He’s got them stretching, going over the basics and why each one is important, what trick or move each stretch will make easier. Who knew a person could be such a nerd about something like working out? It’s okay, though, because it’s cute as hell and Steve isn’t exactly going to just give the other man any breathing room himself.

“Jamie, I just can’t get this stretch right,” he half-whines, all pouting lips and puppy dog eyes, as the other man passes him on a pass through the group. And, god, even just the blush that blooms on the other man’s cheeks is worth every ache he knows he’s going to have for the next week. It’s probably a little sick how pleased his is that his exquisite flirting is being immortalized – and all on YouTube’s dime! Hah!

“Here, let me show you,” Jamie manages to get out, the calm smile on his face just a _little_ forced.

His hands smooth along Steve’s body as he corrects the wrong shapes and angles there, and Steve couldn’t help the little purr that escapes his lips even if he actually wanted to (not that he does, to be fair). He feels the brunet pause for just a fraction of a second, take a steadying breath, and then his hands are more firm, pushing him just a little further than is comfortable.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asks, gentle, making sure he’s a teacher first.

“No Sir,” Steve breathes, just to tease, just to see the brunet’s cheeks flush, to feel his heart race through his palm. “It kinds of sucks though,” he adds with a soft huff of a laugh, craning his neck up enough to meet Bucky’s eyes.

And at that Bucky laughs, loud and genuine, the kind where his eyes crinkle up a little in the corners, and when he does it’s just about the most adorable thing Steve thinks he’s ever seen. The thought flashes through his mind, that smile’s a sight he’d like to wake up to in the mornings, to fall asleep to at night, and it startles him a little.

“It definitely sucks at first,” Bucky says, shaking him from his thoughts, and instinctively smooths a hand down Steve’s back as the smaller man rights himself again. “It’ll get easier if you keep up with it. Promise,” he adds with a smile, and then he crosses two fingers over his heart and Steve can’t help but giggle.

“Okay, sure,” he says, resting a hand on Bucky’s arm, “if you say so, I guess. I trust you.”

 

*

 

Steve huffs and kicks off his shoes – back at his friends’ apartment now for dinner. He’s already starting to get sore in places he didn’t even know he had and he’s starting to think that maybe Sam knew at least a little bit of what he was talking about (imagine that). Not that he’d _ever_ admit that to him.

“How’d it go?” Nat asks him, snickering as she watches him wince with nearly every movement he makes.

Steve rolls his eyes at her and huffs again. “There has _got_ to be an easier way for me to spend some time with him,” he whines as he slides into a chair at their kitchen table. Whatever Sam’s cooking smells heavily and his stomach growls out loud.

“You could ask him out on a _date_ ,” Sam says with a pointed look and spatula in his direction.

Steve huffs yet again and throws his arms up. “We’ve been over this!” he says, shooting back a similar look.

“So then ask him out on a friend date,” Natasha interrupts before Steve can give her husband an aneurism. She sits down in the chair next to him and rests a hand on his arm. “I mean, you know we’ve been going out for coffee and stuff with him. No harm there, right?”

“I think he’d just about shake apart, the sweet boy,” Steve jokes, smirking. Tasha snickers and purses her lips as she nods a little. She knows him, after all, can’t exactly argue with _that_ statement. Sam, on the other hand, looks over at both of them and rolls his eyes. “I feel like, first we should spend some more time together in a group setting, ya know?” Steve goes on, seriously enough to make Sam snort as he starts plating the food in the kitchen.

“That would probably help,” Nat says with a solemn nod. “So he can get more comfortable with you in general. But it would be kind of suspicious – not to mention just as nerve-wracking – if it was just the three of us and him, right?” she thinks aloud.

“There’s no events coming up or anything,” Sam say with a little shrug, “and those aren’t exactly an environment conducive to relaxation anyway.” He lets out a little thoughtful hum as he sets plates down in front of the pair at the table.

“That’s it!” Steve shouts, startling Sam into dropping the plate the last couple of inches onto the table.

“Jesus!” Sam gasps, whacking his friend on the back of the head (which draws a little “Hey!” from the blond). Nat unsuccessfully tries to muffle her laughter at the two. “Inside voice next time. What’s this great idea you had to give me a damn heart attack over?” Sam asks, pouting just a little.

“A dinner party!” Steve tries to lower his voice a notch, and he even _almost_ makes it there. “We could do it kinda potluck style, ya know? You make a main course and have everyone bring a side dish or dessert or whatever! It could totally work!”

Sam raises his eyebrows a little, impressed, as he settles at the table with his own plate of food. “That… could _actually_ work,” he mutters.

“That’s what I just said!” Steve laughs and slaps the table victoriously. Sam’s not sure he’s seen the blond this pleased with himself in a long time. “I’m a fucking genius.”

“Yes you are my little pryanichek,” Tasha coos, only half-teasing, and pinches his cheek playfully. “There’ll be liquor to settle his nerves a little if he wants it, we’ll invite just the right amount of people – just the right _people_ , put on a movie or show or something in the background everyone will like so after dinner we can just veg and chat. It’ll be perfect.”

“It’s still a _little_ suspect,” Sam says around a mouthful of food, “considering there’s no real occasion for it or anything. But definitely less so than if it was just the three of us.”

“I mean, hey,” the blond says, pointing his fork at his friend accusingly, “we don’t _need_ an occasion to enjoy each other’s company, now do we?”

Sam grins at him, unamused, but he’s chuckling as he replies, “Well, I guess you’ve got me there, now don’t you?”

 

*

 

“Hey man,” Sam greets him with a half-hug and then takes a step back so Natasha can get her affections in. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Bucky replies around the redhead’s hug. They exchanged kissed cheeks as she pulls back. “What about you guys?”

“Can’t complain,” Nat says with a wide smile that Bucky’s starting to recognize as dangerous.

“That’s always good,” Bucky says with a chuckle as they all settle in around the small café table. “So you said you wanted to talk to me about something?” he asks. It hadn’t sounded serious, but for some reason he still finds himself starting to get nervous. “What’s up?”

“It’s no big deal or nothin’,” Sam assures him with a little shrug and a comforting smile. “We were just wondering if you wanted to come to a dinner party at our place next week.”

Bucky laughs and his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. “A dinner party?” he asks. “Sounds fancy.”

“It won’t be as fancy as it sounds,” Natasha laughs. “Just bring over a dessert and we’ll provide the food and drinks and we’ll just hang out, eat some good food, watch some nerdy movies. It’ll be great,” she assures him.

“No formal attire required,” Sam adds, drawing an x across his chest with a finger. “And not _too_ many people. Swear.”

Bucky bites his lip and a quiet, unsure noise escapes his lips. What’s too many people? He’s probably not going to know anyone there except them and probably Steve. Does he really want to go to a big party with a bunch of people he doesn’t know? Last time he let himself get sucked into something like that he walked in on his then-boyfriend Brock Rumlow with his pants around his knees and… well, he doesn’t like to think about it. Whatever you’re imagining, it’s about a billion times worse. That relationship is the reason he left New York in the first place. He’s more than sure Natasha and Sam (and probably their friends) aren’t the type of people that snort coke on Tuesday nights and all, but still. When something like that happens once, you can never be too careful. Ever. Again.

A shudder runs through him and he shakes his head to clear his head, shoving those horrible memories back down into hell where they belong.

“It’s not gonna be a _ton_ of people,” Sam assures him when he sees the apprehensive (terrified?) look on his face. “Only _close_ friends, quiet, comfortable, totally chill. I promise.”

“And Stevie will be there,” Nat adds with a little waggle of her eyebrows.

And at that Bucky’s pretty sure he goes pale. He can’t decide if Steve being there is a selling point for him or not – what with the massive crush and the freezing up and making an idiot of himself every time they end up in the same room.

“Come _on_ Yasha,” Natasha nudges him with a foot under the table and her smile softens. “It’ll be fun. A relaxed environment for you to make new friends and get more comfortable talking to him, _and_ there will be alcohol to make that part even easier!”

“You sound like you’re trying to sell me something,” Bucky mutters, trying to tease but there’s no heat behind his words. He sighs heavily as he weighs the options in his head, glancing back and forth between the couple. She has made some _excellent_ points, after all.

He heaves another sigh and glances between them one more time before his gaze meets Sam’s and he asks, “What kind of dessert should I bring?”

 

*

 

Bucky shows up _just_ barely late with a giant tupperware filled to the brim with Oreo truffles. The house smells _amazing_ as he lets himself in (per a note on the door, of course) and he can’t help but marvel over their gorgeous apartment. He’s seen bits and pieces of it from their videos and Instagram posts (and he’d marveled at it then, too), but he hasn’t actually been to their place yet and it is a- _whole_ -nother thing to be seeing it in person.

“Sorry I’m late!” he calls, toeing off his shoes. He can hear the chatter from the dining room and finds himself relieved when he can tell the group isn’t too big.

“Makin’ a real bad impression Barnes,” Sam calls back.

He’s obviously just teasing but the brunet finds himself starting to blush anyway and he lets out a little nervous laugh as he rounds the corner. “That’s okay, I’ll win everyone back with my dessert,” he jokes, holding up the tupperware. “I _might_ have gotten a little carried away making them all.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That depends on what they are,” Natasha teases him with a cute little wink and a slap to his ass as she comes around from behind him.

“Oreo truffles,” Bucky replies with a chuckle as he cracks open the lid to show her a peek. “Home made with love. I know there’s a lot, they just go _so_ fast when I bring them to family dinners. I wanted to make sure there was enough.”

“You had me at Oreo,” a certain blond chimes, appearing from out of thin air. His hand slips between Bucky and Natasha and he makes a grab for one of the truffles, earning him a firm smack on the back of the hand from the redhead.

“Not until after dinner!” she scolds him, snapping the cap back into place before snatching the tupperware. She turns to go put it in the fridge and Steve takes her place in front of the brunet, maybe just a little too close for Bucky’s nervous, head-over-heels brain to handle (at least before some liquor).

“I had to try,” Steve says with a sly grin and a little shrug as he turns his full attention to Bucky. They really are practically toe-to-toe and Bucky’s starting to turn that lovely shade of pink again – right on cue. “Hey stranger,” Steve says, batting his lashes just a little.

“H-hey,” Bucky manages to get out, a nervous smile on his lips as he tries not to lose his mind over the fact that he’s standing so close to the man of his dreams that he can smell his body wash. “Big Oreo fan then?” he jokes. _Fuckin’ smooth Barnes,_ he scolds himself (somehow he hears it in Becca’s voice, and boy if he isn’t going to have a chat with her about _that_ ).

“I would do literally _anything_ for one of those truffles right now,” Steve says dramatically, his eyes rolling back and head tipping back as a soft groan slips past his lips. “Sam’s cooking be damned.” He laughs as he lets his head drop, meeting Bucky’s gaze again.

Bucky swallows hard, his whole body is on fire. “I could probably sneak you one,” he offers with a nervous laugh.

Steve smirks at him and reaches out, grabbing his wrist just as he’s about to walk away. And Bucky couldn’t get his body to move now if he tried. “No, it’s okay,” Steve says and smiles, though somehow it still kind of comes out as whining (Bucky thinks it’s adorable). “It’s even better when you have to wait for it, right?” And then he winks and Bucky feels all the air leave his lungs.

He’s trying desperately to formulate _some_ form of response, but between that noise, the hand still gripping his wrist, and that little wink, he’s pretty sure his brain has completely shut down at this point. Thankfully, they’re interrupted by a man almost completely covered in scars barging into the room.

“Hey, newbie’s here! Wanted to say hello! Stop _hogging_ him Stevie!” he says, overflowing with energy. He shoves the blond out of the way lightly and takes a just slightly more respectable distance from him, holding out a hand. Boy this guy is a lot, and Bucky’s not yet completely sure if he’s relieved or disappointed by the interruption. “Bucky, right? I’m Wade. Nat’s told me _all_ about you. I checked out your channel a little bit, super cool. If you need a local action photog, my boyfriend Pete’s great!”

Bucky laughs (maybe a little nervously), equal parts amused and overwhelmed by the guy’s enthusiasm. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind, thanks,” he replies, ever courteous though not insincere. He could always use a good photographer. He’ll look the guy up when he gets home. And maybe he’d been nervous, but he still can’t help but feel a little disappointed when Steve winks at him and makes his way out the room as he and Wade start up a conversation.

 

“Actually,” Bucky joins the conversation around a sip of his drink. He holds the glass up for emphasis, “all objects released together fall at the same rate, regardless of the object’s weight. They proved it in 1971. What really causes the difference in drop time is the air resistance of the objects.”

“Really?” Gwen chimes, tilting her head. The look makes him a little nervous – it _had_ just been a joke, after all.

But Steve giggles around the rim of his drink and it eases his tension just a little. “Jamie,” he teases him playfully, “I could tell you were into science, you post about it enough, but how many Ted Talks did you have to watch to get to _that_ little tidbit?”

Bucky tries to will his red cheeks to fade, but it doesn’t quite work and he can’t help the nervous chuckle that escapes. “Well, I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do like Ted Talks and all, but that’s actually not how I learned that,”  he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How much of a nerd _are_ you Jamie?” the blond teases him, though not unkindly.

“I, uh, I mean, I’m- I’m an astrophysicist,” Bucky mutters, his cheeks turning even more red as all eyes now turn to him. He lets his own eyes drop to the floor. He isn’t actually sure if he’s ever said those words out loud like that. Not very many people in his life at this point know about the extent of his education. “So, I mean, that’s an answer in and of itself, right?” A breathy chuckle forces its way out of his chest.

When he finally works up the nerve to glance back up, everyone looks varying levels of shocked and/or disbelieving.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” Sam asks, an unsure laugh slipping past his lips. And Bucky knows he doesn’t mean it how a stranger might have, like ‘the dumb jock isn’t smart enough to get a degree like that, talk about three’, but it still makes him wince a little.

“Oh, uh, no,” he stutters out, chewing on his bottom lip. Another nervous giggle slips out, his eyes fliting from Sam to Nat to Steve, before he reaches for his phone. “I obviously don’t actually use it or anything, and, I mean, I just finished my doctorate last year and everything, it was a long process obviously, but yeah.”

He quickly pulls up his sister’s Facebook and finds the picture of them at his graduation last year. He hadn’t even wanted to go, but she had insisted (and maybe guilted him a little bit). “ _You just graduated with a P-H-D- Bucky! That only happens once! For most people, it doesn’t_ ever _happen!”_ And so he’d gone, and she and Vel had flown in for it. He holds the picture out for the group to see, his PhD proudly on display.

Natasha’s smirking now and Steve’s eyes are wide as they flick between the picture and the brunet, his expression unreadable.

“Someone say something,” Bucky begs with another nervous laugh as he locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket, lifting his glass to his lips to shut himself up.

“That’s fucking hot,” Steve mutters, and Bucky chokes on his drink.

 

By the time the party is starting to wind down, he and Steve are both pretty drunk. They’ve actually been talking, _actually_ getting to know each other, just the two of them, almost the entire night. They’re currently tucked away on a love seat, Harry Potter playing in the background while everyone relaxes.

“We should really exchange numbers, you know,” Steve says, scooting closer so he’s practically in Bucky’s lap now. The brunet’s heart picks up pace a little bit. “I mean, I think after tonight we can safely call each other friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Yeah, I think that’s fair,” Bucky teases with a soft chuckle. He smooths his hands down over his thighs, trying desperately to stop his shaking hands. He reaches into his pocket and grabs his phone, pulling up the contacts. “Here,” he says, handing it over to the blond now half-draped across his lap, “go ahead and put yours in.”

Steve hums to himself happily as he types his number into the phone and saves it under the name “man of my dreams” with that little winking kissy emoji. Bucky can’t help but blush as he forces out a laugh and rolls his eyes, trying not to give himself away. He sends a quick, “Hey this is Bucky :)” and then slips his phone back into his pocket.

Steve giggles as his phone buzzes, already in his hand. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” he sing-songs as he reads the text. “I’m going to save you In my phone as Jamie, okay?” the blond asks, leaning his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes and his cheeks turn impossibly redder. He hesitates for a second before the alcohol wins out and he decides “fuck it”, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulder. The guy _is_ basically in his lap, after all. “I mean,” he says, his hand still shaking, still hesitant as he rubs along his arm slowly, “you just saved yourself in my phone as ‘man of my dreams’ so I don’t see why not, right?”

“It doesn’t bother you that I call you Jamie, does it?” Steve asks, tipping his head up to look at the other man. “Does anyone else call you that? You know, your eyes are _so_ pretty,” he breathes, suddenly distracted. Bucky gets the distinct impression that he’s not quite as drunk as he’d like the rest of the room (himself included) to believe, but he lets him have it. “They’re like the perfect winter sky, you know? Like when just the right amount of snow is falling and it’s _just_ cold enough that you stay inside and cuddle up with someone and drink cocoa and everything is just bright and beautiful and, just for a minute, you think, ya know, maybe winter isn’t so bad.”

“Th-thanks,” Bucky stumbles over the word. Steve’s face is way too close and he’s just tipsy enough that he’s not sure if he’s going to cry or kiss the blond but he needs to move _now_ or one of those two (if not both) is going to happen, so he scoots away a little. “And no, to both of your questions. No one calls me Jamie, but it doesn’t bother me that you do. I kind of like it, actually,” he admits.

“Good,” Steve coos, seeming only slightly perturbed at Bucky’s arm falling from his shoulders. He reaches a finger up and taps the other man’s nose gently. “It’s just for me then.”

 

*

 

Becca’s grading papers on Bucky’s couch while he cooks them dinner. She’s trying to give Vel some peace and quiet to grade in at their own apartment, since she knows she does have a tendency to not shut the fuck up while she works. And, hey, spending some quality time with her brother is never a bad thing.

“How’d that dinner party thing go?” she asks, twirling her red pen between her fingers.

Ah, of course, trust Becca to touch on the one subject he’d been trying to avoid. She’s always been way too good at that. It’s not that it went badly or that Bucky really doesn’t wanna talk about it that bad. He actually really does want to talk about it. A lot.

But he knows she’s going to tease him and make him blush, and he kinda wasn’t looking forward to that part of it. At least not in person. That part is _much_ easier over the phone. Not to mention, he knows the exact lecture she’s going to give him on healing from the whole Brock thing and how he has to put himself out there again and all that. Which is true, and he knows, and _that_ is what he doesn’t feel like talking about.

“It was good,” Bucky says, trying to downplay it, but his goofy smile gives him away.

Becca turns her head and flashes him an expectant look, eyebrows raised. “How was the artist?” she asks after a long moment of silence.

Bucky glances over at her briefly and lets out a little ‘tch’ when he sees her expression before they both resume the tasks at hand.

“He was great,” he says, staring into the pan on the stove maybe a little too dreamily for food. “He’s funny and nice and he’s super smart,” he gushes.

“Oh yeah?” Becca asks, egging him on. She’s not even bothering with the papers anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky goes on, turning the heat down on the pan and going to lean against the little half-wall that separates the kitchen and the living room. “He played it all white girl wasted and cuddled up to me and told me my eyes were pretty. I think he was gauging my reactions.”

“You don’t think he just couldn’t hold his liquor?” his sister teases, an amused smirk on her lips.

Bucky lets out a thoughtful hum as he shakes his head. “No, I could tell. When he complimented my eyes he was suddenly sober in a way that just _doesn’t_ happen if you’re not playing it up, ya know? His words were like poetry.” He feels himself blush at the memory and turns, heading back into the kitchen.

“Well, good then,” Becca says after a moment. “At least you know he’s not going to be another Brock. Which is a good transition into my next lecture – see how I did that?” she giggles.

Bucky groans from where he’s getting plates out of the cabinet, his head tipping back a little. “I should have known better than to set you up for a segue,” he grumbles.

 

*

 

“How are the newbies doing?” Steve asks as he trails behind his mom, following her from room to room.

He’s really not supposed to be following her around when she’s on the clock working, but between her being a single mother and how sick Steve was as a kid, he was basically raised in this hospital anyway. He knows _everyone_ and _no one_ is about to tell him he can’t be here. When he was in high school he actually considered a career in nursing himself, but his mom encouraged him to chase his passions. And it paid off, so he definitely won’t complain.

“They’re catching on fast,” Sarah replies over her shoulder as she checks vitals on a patient in a medically-induced coma. “Most of them anyway,” she adds with a dry tone and a wry smile.

“There’s always a few duds in the bunch,” Steve replies with a little shrug, lacing his fingers behind his back, forcing himself to resist the urge to touch _everything_ , and bouncing on his toes a little.

Sarah laughs and glances at him over her shoulder again. “Well, I’ll give you that one,” she says. “Come on antsy pants, it’s about time for my lunch. Let’s go get some food.”

“Mmm, hospital food,” Steve teases her, smirking, but he follows her out of the room and falls into stride next to her as they make their way down the hall.

“Hey, you know how much better it’s gotten,” Sarah teases right back, nudging her son lightly with an elbow. They walk on in companionable silence for a long moment before she finally says, “So, Natasha tells me you’re interested in a boy.”

“That snitch!” Steve gasps, but he’s laughing as they grab trays and look over the lunch options. “But, that _is_ actually something I wanted to talk about with you today,” he says, and now he’s blushing, a sheepish smile dancing across his lips.

“Well, at least you were planning on telling me at some point,” his mom teases him as they quickly grab food and find a quiet table, tucked away in a corner. “So, tell me about this boy,” she says as they settle in.

Steve blushes again as he feels the dreamy smile work its way across his face. “I mean, at first it was just a kinda infatuation thing or whatever, you know? That’s why I hadn’t mentioned it. He was some hot guy on Instagram that followed me and I followed him and we flirted in comments a little bit but it was never going to be more than that.”

“So what changed?” Sarah asks as he shoves a forkful of food in his mouth.

Steve lets out a little thoughtful hum and shrugs. “I dunno. He started talking to Nat and Sam cuz they’re all with that health and fitness shit, and then they started hanging out, and I met him in person and he’s just so…” he lets out a dreamy sigh and slurps noisily from his straw. “He’s funny and gorgeous and so _sweet_. Oh! And he’s _smart,_ ma,” he knows he’s babbling like a teenager, but he just can’t find it in himself to care. “He’s got a damn doctorate.”

“That’s impressive,” his mom hums. “And it sounds like you _really_ like him.”

“I do,” Steve sighs happily, resting his elbow on the table and leaning his cheek in his hand.

“So, do you think you’ve got a chance with him?” she asks.

Steve snickers a little at that and runs a hand through his hair as he slouches in his seat. “I do,” he repeats.

Sarah smiles at him and reaches out to rest a hand on his knee. “Well, honey, sounds like it’s about time you ask him out then, huh?” she teases.

 

*

 

“You have never gone to a damn draw meet your entire life,” Bucky says suspiciously, eyebrow quirked. “You haven’t even gone to them since they’ve become a big thing.”

“Exactly!” Clint says and throws his arms up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “They’re becoming really popular among the Insta artists and I’ve never gone and I wanna find out what it’s like! Maybe I wanna get some tips and tricks so I can run my own one of these days.”

“And I have to come because?” Bucky asks, still not buying it. He crosses his arms over his chest and his eyebrow lifts impossibly higher.

Moral support?” Clint tries, unsuccessfully stifling a snicker. “I have social anxiety or something.”

“No you don’t,” Bucky replies again, still deadpan. “That’s me. And you could bring Bobbi. And the fact that it’s Steve’s? You’re really gonna stand here and try to tell me this has nothing to do with the fact that it’s _Steve’s_ draw meet? You’re really gonna stand here and lie to my face?” he really lays it on thick for effect.

“I just… really love his work, man,” Clint tries, snickering again. It comes out more like a question and he gives a little shrug. “And, hey, I’m buying the caffeine so shut up and get in the car loser. Are you coming or not?”

“Did you just throw a Mean Girls reference at me?” Bucky says, trying his best to look unimpressed. But in the end he lets out a heavy sigh. He already knows he’s going to go to this thing.

 

The first thing Steve does when he gets to the coffee shop is, well, grab a coffee. The manager is running the register and he thanks her for the millionth time for letting him do this once a month. They chat a little while the barista makes his drink and then he heads up to the little loft area he always uses.

He’s there early (like always) so he heads back down to snap a picture of the loft and one of his setup once he gets back to the table he’s at and posts them to Instagram. ‘In case you’ve never been to one before,’ he captions it, ‘we’re in the loft!<3’. Then he sits back and takes a long sip of his coffee. He stretches and sighs heavily and picks up his pencil just as the first few people start to trickle in.

“Hey girls,” Steve says, waving with his pencil at Kate Bishop and America Chavez walk up to his table and set their stuff down. They’re freshman at NYU and regulars to his meetups. Kate is the only artist between them, but America likes the excuse to get out of the dorm. “How’s it been?”

“Good,” the girls chime in unison.

“I’m gonna go grab our drinks,” America says with a hand on Katie’s shoulder, then leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Okay,” Kate squeezes her hand lightly before she goes. “How have things been with you? Getting’ anywhere with that parkour guy?” she asks him with a little waggle of her eyebrows as she starts setting up her stuff.

Steve laughs and huffs a little, starting to doodle mindlessly. “I mean, kinda?” he replies, his voice pitching up at the end of the word. “We exchanged numbers finally, and we’ve been texting pretty regularly. So yeah, I guess. Slower than I want, but this whole thing has been slower than I want, so yeah. What about you guys? How are your classes going?”

“Good, good,” Kate says, twirling her pencil between her fingers as America sets a coffee down in front of her and takes the seat next to her. “We’re liking most of our classes so far-“

“Except math,” America says, scrunching up her face.

“You’re literally getting a degree in goddamn mathematics,” Kate replies, laughing, and her face scrunches up in equal parts amusement and confusion.

“I can still dislike a math class!” America says, holding her hands up in defense. Kate and Steve exchange looks and bust out laughing.

 

More people start to file in quickly after that and everyone at least makes sure to stop at Steve’s table to say hello before spreading out to the tables around him. Steve’s got all his focus in a sketch – a new OC that had come to him this morning – when a familiar voice, timid and sweet, asks, “Are these seats taken?”

“Jamie!” Steve practically shouts, a grin spreading from ear to ear as his head snaps up to meet those steely blue eyes he loves so much. Still, he does _not_ miss the look America and Kate exchange. “Of course not, take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the empty chairs.

“Thanks,” Bucky says with a shy smile. He’s got his tablet loaded up with about a billion unread books so he doesn’t bother distract anyone too much and he sets it down gently but doesn’t bother unlocking it just yet.

Just then Clint finally makes his way up to the loft and over to their table, handing Bucky his coffee cup and taking the seat next to him.

“Hey Katie, hey Steve,” Clint says with a little wave as he starts to settle in and pull out his stuff.

And, look, Steve was flattered and all, but he was kinda confused when Bucky just showed up to his draw meet, not really being an artist and all that (not that he discourages people who are just getting into it or anything). But now he’s even _more_ confused because not only does Clint Barton apparently know the man of his dreams intimately enough to have his coffee order memorized (he knew they were friends, but that is some next level shit, he thinks), but he also knows little Katie Bishop? He’s run into Clint a couple of times at artist events and cons and stuff, and he’s a really cool guy and all that, but… What in the fucking fuck is going on? What is his life? Seriously.

His confusion must show on his face because Kate explains, “He teaches old-fashioned archery at the local range. I’m almost better than him.” She flashes him a toothy grin and Clint laughs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“You _think_ ,” he says with a snicker, pointing his pencil at her in warning. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll show you next week just how far off you really are.”

Katie smirks and rolls her eyes back, laughing as she waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles, “whatever you say old man.”

“That’s quite a niche hobby, but that’s awesome though,” Steve says with a soft laugh. He tries not to be too obvious, but he doesn’t _really_ care much when he changes the subject. “So, how do you and Jamie know each other?” he asks the other blond, flashing his most innocent smile.

Clint chuckles softly and scratches the back of his head. “Oh, we go way back,” he says, nudging his friend with his knee under the table. “We kinda grew up in the same apartment building, realized real quick we had a lot in common. I spent a lot of time in the Barnes’s living room,” he muses, chuckles again.

He’s trying to play it off but Steve doesn’t miss the subtle way both men tense up at the memories. He feels his curiosity spike to almost unheard-of levels, but he does have _some_ tact, so he doesn’t ask the thousand questions he suddenly has.

“Isn’t that hilarious?” he asks instead, laughing. “In this big ol’ city, in this big ol’ world, that we’d all happen upon each other like this?”

“The universe works in mysterious ways,” Clint says with a smirk as he finally puts pencil to paper and gets to work.

 

The time rushes past and before they know it people are already packing up and leaving. Bucky had given up on his books and had actually taken a stab at his own creative outlet – writing. It’s something he hasn’t made _any_ time for in ages, even though he’s been done with his doctorate for over a year. He mostly ends up with poetry about the blue of Steve’s eyes – comparing them to cliché (but true) things like summer skies and clear ocean waters – and the way they make his heart race.

To be fair, though, Steve had definitely sketched the brunet more than once across his pages. He was supposed to be working on a page of his comic but, well, the universe _clearly_ had other plans for him. And who was he – a mere mortal – to argue with the universe, right?

“Hey,” Clint says, tapping his friend on the shoulder, “I’m going to head out. See you later?”

America and Kate are the only others from the drawing group still lingering.

“Oh, yeah!” Kate says, completely obvious, jumping up and stuffing things in her bag. “Clint! Wait up! I had some questions to ask you on that thing you taught us last week!”

She nudges America, who springs into action herself. The girls both flash Steve a little wink before they’re bolting out the door after Clint.

“You heading out too?” Bucky asks Steve, his cheeks turning pink the same way they seem to do every damn time he talks to the blond.

Steve sighs and mentally curses his schedule. If he’d known Jamie was just going to randomly show up, he definitely would have cleared it. “Unfortunately,” he says, tucking the last of his things in his bag. “I don’t want to, but I gotta. Meeting.” He pouts a little and his heart about breaks when he sees the hint of disappointment in the other man’s eyes.

“I should probably go myself,” Bucky says with a reluctant chuckle, his blush growing adorable darker. Steve can only imagine how long the other man was working up the nerve to even just ask that. The brunet downs the last sip of his coffee and stands up, stretching a little.

Steve stands as well and slings his bag over his shoulder quickly. “This was a lot of fun,” he says, smiling and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun as I always seem to have when I’m with you.” And bashful isn’t really a feeling he’s used to, but for Bucky, he thinks, he could learn. It would only be fair, after all.

“Don’t let Natasha hear you say that,” Bucky teases him, not meeting his gaze – Steve assumes in some kind of attempt to control that _adorable_ blushing. “Me too, though,” he admits, his gaze flickering up just briefly.

“Why don’t we ever hang out together?” Steve asks, taking a step closer. “Just the two of us, I mean.”

“I dunno,” Bucky chuckles nervous and glances up briefly again. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he’s stopping himself.

And the brunet’s nerves, his timidity, that’s what finally settles it for Steve. He steps closer until he can duck down a little and meet the other man’s eyes.

“Hey Jamie?” he asks, blinking up at him.

Bucky’s blush comes back in full force and he tilts his chin up so Steve doesn’t have to lean over like that. “Yeah?” he asks quietly.

“Do you think we could hang out some time real soon?” he asks, a tender smile on his face. For the first time in a long time Steve feels his confidence waiver, just a fraction, feels just the slightest hint of doubt set in. “Maybe… for dinner? Maybe… Maybe like a date?”

 

*

 

Bucky’s heart about beats out of his chest when he gets the text from Steve two days later:

[ **Steve:** I believe you owe me a date mister ;P]

Despite his thudding heart he gets this dopey grin on his face and he send back:

[ **Bucky:** I believe you are correct :)]

[ **Steve:** What are you doing for the rest of the night? ;D]

[ **Bucky:** uhh…… going on a date with you????]

[ **Steve:** Good answer! Be here in an hour?]

Then he sends an address and Bucky’s hands are shaking. It’s in Williamsburg. Is that… That’s not… Steve’s home address, is it? Is he really inviting him over to his house? Already? Well, he figures, it really _has_ been long enough, since they’ve started this little song and dance game. He jumps up from the couch, his fingers tapping out a quick text as he makes his way to the bathroom to shower.

[ **Bucky:** Dress code?]

There’s a little too long of a break there where Steve doesn’t respond and Bucky is standing there in his bathroom half-naked, just staring blankly at his phone screen, and then he finally gets back:

[ **Steve:** pajamas, definitely]

[ **Steve:** whatever you longue around your house in]

Bucky grins and it’s only because of the adrenaline surging through him that he has the nerve to send:

[ **Bucky:** What if I don’t wear any? What if I just wander around my house naked?]

This time the reply comes instantly.

[ **Steve:** then show up naked and make my night stud ;)]

Bucky blushes from his ears to halfway down his chest and he barks out a surprised laugh.

[ **Bucky:** We’ll see ;P]

He sends it back with shaking hands and finally manages to unstick his feet from the linoleum to turn on the water for his shower.

[ **Steve:** oh /now/ i’m excited!]

 

An hour after he got that first text – almost on the dot – Bucky makes it to the apartment building in a pair of sweats with a bottle of sweet wine (he’d called Natasha to find out the blond’s favorite) and a single rose. He can be sweet, he can be charming. He’s capable of being cool, calm, and collected instead of the nervous fucking wreck he usually is around men he’s attracted to.

At least, that’s what he thinks up until he makes it to the apartment number Steve had given him and he’s knocking on the door with a shaking hand. Well, hey, it’s been a while since he’s done this kind of thing, he reasons with himself. And it didn’t exactly end well last time. _And_ he made it the entire walk without freaking out! So, you know what, he’ll give it to himself, just this once.

“Awh, way to let a guy down,” Steve teases him with a wink and a once-over as he opens the door to let him in.

“Hopefully this can make it up to you,” Bucky replies, laughing, and holds out the bottle and the flower. “I hope I got the right kind,” he says, quieter now, and turns bright pink.

Steve’s eyes soften and his smile widens as he takes the gifts, reading over the label on the wine. “You did,” he says, holding the rose up to his nose and taking a long sniff. “And it almost does. _Almost_ ,” he jokes, meeting the brunet’s eyes again. “Maybe you can find some other way to make it up to me later, if you enjoy the date enough,” he adds with a coy smile and a wink.

Bucky feels his chest constrict a little as he hears Brock’s voice in his head, saying those same exact words on their first date. He steps into the apartment and toes off his shoes and he feels cold all of a sudden. He knows Steve well enough to know he was kidding, he’s not like Brock, he wouldn’t… And it’s not like Steve knows about his past, not like he’s opened up about it. That’s definitely way beyond first date material. But still, the fear is spiking through him and the little chuckle he forces out as the blond closes the door behind him sounds way more nervous than he’d meant it, his voice just a little strained as he forces himself to reply, “I can think of a few ways.”

“Jamie,” Steve says, his voice soft now as takes a step closer to the brunet, brushes a hand across the small of his back, “you know I was just kidding, right? I would never try to make you feel- I make a lot of jokes and all but I’m not that kind of guy, I _swear_.” His eyes are wide and sincere as he meets Bucky’s.

Bucky feels his shoulders relax a little and he forces himself to take a deep breath, let it out slow. When had he stopped breathing, anyway? He manages a small smile and nods as he looks into Steve’s eyes. “Yeah, I know,” he says, resting a reassuring hand on the blond’s chest. “I believe I was promised dinner?” he changes the subject, laughing softly.

Steve hesitates for just a second, studying Bucky’s face, torn between double-checking that he’s okay and allowing the subject change, before he smiles and presses his hand just a little more firmly to the brunet’s back as he starts leading him to the couch. “It’s almost done,” he says, back to his usual cheery demeanor. “It’s Nonna Wilson’s recipe.”

“I didn’t know Sam was Italian,” Bucky says, laughing.

He about loses it when Steve replies, “It’s actually Wade’s recipe, and he’s not.”

 

Their first date is a fancy meal with fancy wine…. cuddling on Steve’s couch in their pajamas watching anime. It’s amazing and perfect and, oddly enough, somehow fitting. It just feels… right. Everything about this night has felt right. It’s made it a lot easier for Bucky to be himself around Steve, to joke and tease him and just _talk_ to him, instead of becoming the nervous wreck he’d been almost every other time they were in a room together.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Steve asks with a soft chuckle, drawing the brunet from where he’s gotten lost in his own head. He’s looking up at him, head tilted and eyes bright with curiosity.

“Just how nice this is,” Bucky replies, fingers brushing along the smaller man’s arm. And it is. Nice, wonderful, amazing – _perfect_.

Steve grins from ear to ear and pushes himself upright. He turns and crawls into Bucky’s lap, straddles his thighs. “This _has_ been nice,” he says, reaching up with one hand to run through the other man’s hair. “And I think I know of a way we can make it _even_ better.”

“Is that so?” Bucky asks, leaning into the touch as Steve’s fingers rest along his jaw. He’s sure Steve can feel his pulse racing, can hear how his breath is starting to stutter out of him. He rests shaking hands on slim hips and the blond practically purrs, his eyes fluttering shut for just a second.

“Mmmmmhm,” he hums, meeting those storm cloud eyes, and brushes his thumb along Bucky’s jawline.

“How’s that?” Bucky asks, trying desperately to keep his voice from shaking.

Steve lets out a pleased giggle and wiggles closer on the other man’s lap. “Do you even know how adorable you are?” he asks, tapping those fingers lightly against his jaw. Bucky blushes bright pink but before he can say anything Steve goes on. “Jaimie,” he asks, “can I kiss you?”

Bucky’s breath sticks in his chest and so all he can manage is a small nod. And the first press of lips on his is so soft and sweet and gentle, so far from what he had been expecting, it leaves him gasping out the other man’s name.

“Do you know,” Steve asks, still so close their lips brush as he speaks, “ _how long_ I have wanted to do that?”

“About as long as I’ve wanted you to,” Bucky admits, fingers tightening just a little on those slender hips, trying to steady himself.

“Is this okay Jamie?” Steve whispers, subconsciously pressing his hips down into Bucky’s lap ever-so slightly, his fingers weaving through his hair as he steals another quick kiss. “You’re trembling sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, nuzzling his nose gently against the other man’s. “Yeah, it’s nice,” he assures him.

“Jamie,” Steve says softly, fingers still brushing through long brown strands, “you stop me if it stops being okay, alright? Promise.”

Bucky feels like he just might cry and any ability to speak completely leaves him for a moment. He opens his eyes and Steve is watching him, still so close. “P-promise,” he stutters out, meeting those icy blue eyes. “Promise Stevie.”

There’s a moment, a fraction of a second, where electricity sparks between them, and then Steve’s surging forward, fingers tightening in his hair, gentleness all but forgotten as he crushes their lips together. Bucky can’t help but moan into the kiss, his heart thundering in his ears, and he thinks this might actually be how he dies.

Steve takes the opportunity of his open mouth to lick into it, teasing relentlessly for what could only have been a second before he pulls back, a devilish grin on his lips. Bucky looks at him, breathing hard, brow furrowed in confusion, as the smaller man climbs out of his lap. Steve stands and turns the TV off quickly before turning his attention back to the brunet on the couch and extends a hand.

“Still no pressure,” he reassures him, grin still firmly in place, “but I think we’d be more… _comfortable_ in my bed, no matter how far this ends up going.”

Relief floods through Bucky and he blushes, taking the blond’s hand and pulling himself off the couch. “I could agree with that,” he says, softer than he’d meant to, and presses a kiss to Steve’s knuckles.

Steve can’t help the little laugh that escapes his lips and he actually blushes just slightly. “Such a gentleman,” he teases fondly, leading them back to his bedroom.

“Is that something you’re not used to?” Bucky asks, and it’s just as concerned as it is teasing.

“If I’m lucky,” Steve starts, pulling Bucky forward and gently pushing him onto the bed with a hand on his chest, “and I play my cards right, then I think it’s something I could get used to _very_ quickly.”

Bucky pushes himself further up the bed as the smaller man climbs onto the mattress, crawling up his body and straddling his lap again. Artist’s fingers slide along toned muscles as he leans down and presses another one of those soft, tender kisses to Bucky’s lips.

“I would treat you like a prince,” Bucky breathes when their lips part again, “if you’d have me.” His hands slide up cotton-covered thighs, no longer shaking, and rest back on those slender hips, more sure now in his determination to show the other man what it’s like to be properly taken care of, loved.

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” Steve chuckles, soft and low, and his eyes are sparkling. “Because if so, then my answer is yes.” And he doesn’t even give Bucky a chance to respond before his lips are crushing his again, hands sliding back down his chest.

It’s all a blur to him, time has no meaning with Steve’s lips against his own, his tongue in his mouth, hands roaming his chest, tugging at his shirt, his hair. Has it been one minute or twenty? And he’s not quite sure when it happened but their clothes are gone, hips grinding together, and he can’t stop the thought that crosses his mind; that this is his first time since Brock, in so many ways – first date, first kiss, first time being intimate, first time anyone has seen him completely naked. And he thought he would be more nervous, self-conscious, scared. But everything just feels so… right.

And then Steve’s hand is around his length and the blond is sinking down onto his cock and his fingers grip the other man’s hips as his back arches, a low moan slipping past his lips. Time and the whole world stops as he seats himself completely in Bucky’s lap and there’s that spark again as their eyes meet, chests heaving. And then Steve’s crushing their lips together again as his hips set a punishing pace. Bucky sees stars, so lost in pleasure he almost forgets to slip his hand between them. He grasps Steve’s cock and sets out to return the favor, to make him forget what life was like before this moment.

And Bucky’s not sure how long they last, but no matter what it’s too soon when he feels Steve’s muscles clenching around him, his back arching, head thrown back as he comes over the brunet’s chest and fingers. That’s all it takes to send him tumbling over the edge too, Steve grinding down slowly, riding out his orgasm as Bucky’s back arches off the bed.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes as they’re both coming down, hands ghosting along Bucky’s sides. “Fuck,” he repeats, “I hope that was just as good for you as it was for me.”

And Bucky’s still not quite coherent enough to say anything, so he just nods, breathless.

The blond chuckles and leans down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Fuck,” he repeats again with another quiet laugh. “You wanna shower?” he asks. “And I’ve got some dessert.”

“That wasn’t dessert?” Bucky teases him.

They both groan quietly as Steve finally rolls off of Bucky’s lap and sprawls out next to him.

He huffs out a breath and then chuckles again. “That was better than dessert, but now I want chocolate,” he says, pushing himself up. He leans over and steals a kiss before bounding off the bed. “C’mon,” he says, “if you think you can get it up again I’ll blow you in the shower.”

 

*

 

“Are we going to tell the internet?” Steve asks him one morning a couple of weeks later. He’s draped across Bucky’s couch, hanging half-off it, a cup of coffee in hand while Bucky makes them breakfast.

The brunet turns his head to shoot the other man a look, curious and amused, eyebrows raised. “I mean, I’m pretty sure they’ve figured it out by now,” he teases with a soft snort. “You haven’t exactly been subtle in your comments,” he adds, pointing the spatula at the blond accusingly.

Steve flashes a devilish grin and shrugs a little, looking _way_ too smug. “They’re still gonna go nuts over an official announcement like that,” he says, twirling the spoon in his mug.

“Oh, I see how it is. You just want the publicity, huh?” Bucky teases him, plating the french toast and setting both places on the little kitchen table. He motions toward the food and then turns to the fridge to dig out the butter and maple syrup.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” Steve practically shouts, laughing, and hopping up from the couch. He makes his way to the brunet at the fridge and wraps his arms around his waist from behind, peppering a trail of kisses up his spine and making him shiver. Bucky stands and turns in the blond’s arm and Steve waggles his eyebrows as he says, “I just want everyone knowing you’re off the market. Ya know, officially. More specifically, I want them to know you’re mine.”

Bucky laughs and presses a kiss to his forehead. “You mean to tell me that the cool, confident, cocky _Steve Rogers_ is a jealous boyfriend?” he teases, slipping from the blond’s arms to empty his hands onto the table.

Steve laughs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe a little bit,” he replies with a slight pout. He lands a firm swat to Bucky’s ass as he walks passed him and takes a seat at the table, where he batts lashes up at the brunet. “Is that what we are now Jamie?” he ask, a coy smile on his face. “Boyfriends?”

Bucky blushes but he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense as he settles across the table from the blond. “You’re the one talking about making announcements,” he replies, teasing. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t mean posting a half-naked picture of me saying ‘look who I just banged’ with a winky face.”

“What if I did?” Steve jokes between bouts of laughter. He shakes his head a little as he starts to settle and says, “I mean, really though, it’s like you don’t know me at all. I would absolutely post an ass shot, totally bare.”

“That would violate Instagram’s terms and conditions,” Bucky says around a mouthful of food, an eyebrow quirked. “And I’m definitely against an announcement, then. Also, you don’t get seconds,” he jokes, stifling a laugh as he puts his fork down. “As a matter of fact, give me my french toast back.” He holds a hand out expectantly, wiggling fingers at the plate in front of the other man. His laughter is starting to bubble up despite himself though.

Steve is full-on cracking up again as he wraps his arms around his plate defensively. “Hey! We had a good night! I didn’t slip out on you while you were sleeping or anything! I earned this one plate, at least,” he says through his laughter.

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest and he’s still snickering as he eyes the blond warily. After a long moment he lets out a thoughtful hum and then says, “Fine, I guess you do have a point there. I guess you can keep it.”

“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Steve replies with a wink and batts his eyelashes, drawing a blush to the brunet’s cheeks. After a moment he says, “So, about that announcement.”

Bucky laughs and rolls his eyes, kicking the other man lightly under the table. “Yeah, okay, fine,” he says. “What did you have in mind?”

 

The feedback they get on their Instagram posts are insane and (thankfully) almost entirely supportive, but it’s _nothing_ compared to the short little vlog they post on Bucky’s channel. To be fair, Bucky blames Steve for the insanity that becomes the comments section of that video before Bucky can even blink.

The video starts out with Steve and Bucky on the brunet’s couch. They both give a camera and a little wave, these cute, kinda shy smiles on their face, and then Bucky stars, “Hey guys. So, for those of you who don’t know him, this is Steve Rogers aka Captain America on Instagram. He’s the writer and artist of Brimstone and Broomsticks,” he beams at the blond and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “I’m sure most of you have seen the post on our Instas, but you all know how I like to vlog major life events,” he chuckles softly and smiles sheepishly.

The rest of the video is basically just them confirming that they are indeed dating and lets everyone know to expect to see more of each other in the future. It doesn’t end up being a super long video or anything, but throughout the course of it Steve inches closer and closer until he’s actually literally perched in Bucky’s lap, running his fingers through his hair and along his arm and smacking his chest lightly when he says something particularly funny. That, paired with the innuendos and Steve promoting the shit out of the video on his own channel… well, insanity really is the _only_ word Bucky can come up with to describe it.

And just like the post (again, thankfully), the comments are almost entirely positive. It certainly helps to ignore the ones that aren’t. There are a few negative comments thrown in there, of course, but most of them are really just people bitching that one party or the other isn’t single anymore and trying to convince them that they’re not a good fit for each other. Either way, good or bad, the sheer quantity of it makes Bucky’s head spin a little bit.

 

“I was thinking about starting a channel,” Steve says from where he’s laying sprawled across Bucky’s couch, his head in his boyfriend’s lap while the brunet reads and he plays games on his phone. “For, like, speedpaint videos or something,” he elaborates. “What do you think?”

Bucky locks his screen and sets his phone down on the arm of the couch. He runs his fingers through the blond’s hair as he looks down at him thoughtfully. “They _are_ becoming popular,” he offers with a fond smile. “And it would expose your art to a-whole-nother demographic, too, ya know? People who maybe don’t use Instagram, or at least don’t use it extensively enough to just stumble upon your art, and people who maybe otherwise wouldn’t find the comic. It’s another platform for them to happen upon your stuff and then they’ll check out your comic or your Insta, maybe buy some stuff off your shop.”

“You’re so smart baby,” Steve coos teasingly, reaching up and pinching one of the brunet’s cheeks. “You make some excellent points. I was just going off an impulse.”

Bucky laughs and rolls his eyes fondly, swatting at the blond’s hand with the one not laced through his hair. “And that’s why you’ve started running things by me first. What would you do without me?” he teases, scratching lightly at his boyfriend’s scalp. “No, really though,” he says, chuckling quietly, “If it’s something you want to do I think it would be a great idea. And, hey, if it’s just for you, for fun, there’s nothing wrong with that either babe. Not everything has to be a way to make money, right?”

Steve’s smile softens and he jumps upright, nodding with a little “Mmmhm!” He turns and takes his boyfriend’s hands in his as he meets his eyes. “Will you help me get my channel set up all proper in the morning Jamie? Since you’re already so familiar with it?” he asks, lacing their fingers together.

Bucky blushes just a little at the use of the nickname, still not completely used to it, and leans forward to steal a kiss (because, hey, he can no). “Of course Stevie,” he replies.

And then, without warning, Steve jumps up from the couch, shouting after himself in a rush, “Thank you Jamie you’re the best oh my god I love you!”

Bucky laughs and blushes darker and shakes his head, calling after him, “What are you doing babe?”

Steve returns a moment later, just as quickly as he’d gone, with his stupid expensive new drawing tablet. He holds it up in victory as he plops back down on the couch and says, “Well, I’ve gotta make myself a cool header, now don’t I?”

 

I’ve been thinking,” Bucky says one day. He’s working out in his home office while Steve sits at his desk and sketches him. Bucky knows it’s just for the sake of having an excuse to oogle him (and to post the shirtless sketches – or, as he puts it, “anatomy study of my hot boyfriend” – and gets _tons_ of likes on the post). And _boy_ would _that_ thought make him blush if he wasn’t already flushed bright red from the exertion. But, still, it doesn’t actually bother him so he lets the blond do whatever he wants.

“Awh, don’t strain yourself honey,” Steve teases him, flashing a little wink when Bucky tips his head up to glare at him playfully.

“Hey, fuck you,” Bucky jokes, pushing himself to his knees and sitting back on his heels. “Additionally, that’s _doctor_ to you.”

Steve laughs and rolls his eyes fondly, getting that smirk on his face. “Oh, yes _doctor_ ,” he breathes, batting his lashes and biting on his bottom lip seductively. But then he giggles and sets his tablet down on the desk, slouching in the chair a little. “What were you thinking babe?” he asks, a little more seriously now.

“I was just thinking,” Bucky starts, blushing a little now that he’s actually got to say it out loud. He looks down to where his hands are fidgeting with his shoelace and mutters, “maybe I might write a book, you know? It seems like everyone else is doing it right now.”

“That’s a great idea!” Steve shouts, startling the brunet, and when Bucky works up the nerve to look up at him he’s beaming. “Would it be like a biography kinda thing? Informational? Fiction? I know you’ve got a lot of ideas you don’t let yourself think about enough.”

“I’m not sure,” Bucky says with a little shrug. “You don’t think it’s a little… presumptuous?” he asks, timid and unsure. “Should I, like, put out a poll first or something? To see if there’s actually any interest?”

“You shut your fucking mouth,” Steve says, laughing, as he jumps out of his seat and practically launches himself at the brunet. He ends up in his lap and suffocates him with a kiss before going on lovingly scolding him, “It’s a _great_ idea and not presumptuous or anything at _all_. I mean, really, did Tyler Oakley post a _poll_ before writing his book?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky laughs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“Well I don’t know either, but probably not!” Steve claims, dead serious, poking his boyfriend in the chest. “Do you even _realize_ how popular your videos are? It wouldn’t matter what you decide to write babe, it would be a hit.”

Bucky’s blush spreads down his chest and he averts his eyes again, laughing nervously. “I mean, I know the numbers,” he says with a little shrug. “I don’t believe it, really, or understand it at all, but I’ve _got_ the numbers.”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs out a sigh, squishing the brunet’s face between his hands and forcing him to look him in the eye. “Shut. Up,” he says and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you _so_ much for reading! I really hope you all enjoyed it! <3 I have a lot of backstory that I purposely left out here, but eventually I may type it all up as a companion piece and post it. We'll see :P
> 
> Comments, kudos, etc mean the world to me! They reallyreally do!<3
> 
> And, as always, if you want to come ramble/shout/flail at me and/or send me requests/prompts/etc, I'm on [tumblr](http://worrisomeme.tumblr.com) ^_^ Let's be friends!<3


End file.
